


Anything you can do, I can do better

by Miyukitty



Category: Final Fantasy, Ivalice Alliance, 弱虫ペダル | Yowamushi Pedal
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambiguous Relationships, Arakita Yasutomo Swears, Awkward Crush, Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2015, Crossover, Culture Shock, First Kiss, Gender Identity, Homoromantic, M/M, Prompt Fic, Swearing, Trans Male Character, Transgender, Viera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Miki excitedly dragged him to meet the clan that accepted them, Imaizumi was understandably skeptical. They looked more ragtag than professional – among them was a flustered moogle gadgeteer blinking through gigantic goggles, and the shortest bangaa he'd ever met, clad in gaudy red-lacquered dragoon armor – though their leader was a capable-looking hume paladin with rose-tinted glasses. </p><p>Imaizumi's cool gaze flicked to the lone viera slouching toward the back, and felt a flicker of solidarity. He thought perhaps they would understand each other best, being a pair of male-spirit outcasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything you can do, I can do better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inelegantly (elegantanagram)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Inelegantly+%28elegantanagram%29), [inelegantly (Lir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/gifts).



> _Prompt: Imaizumi/Arakita, Final Fantasy Tactics Advanced AU where Imaizumi and Arakita are both viera in the same clan and Arakita is constantly starting pissing contests about who can do more missions, or do missions faster, or shoot their bow better... Look Imaizumi is just not better than him, okay?_
> 
>  
> 
> Includes a little bit of other Ivalice Alliance canon regarding viera but also plenty of headcanon gender roles ;v; I can't count how many hours I logged in FFTA ~~let alone Revenant Wings and FFTA2~~! One of my absolute favorite video games and clearly I have no self control regarding it because this was supposed to be a short rarepair drabble :,) 
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> [ALSO THERE'S ART](http://i.imgur.com/DiqRBt4.png)  
>  **

 

Imaizumi and Miki left the Wood together when they came of age. She was a white mage, bright and enthusiastic and ready to seek her fortune in Ivalice. Imaizumi traveled for simpler reasons – his hearing, his senses, were too powerful; the voices of the spirit world were too loud for him. He sought quiet.

  
  
The stories told that a viera who lived among humes would find their senses dulled over time. He hoped that was true, because when they reached Cyril, the ceaseless chatter of merchants and travelers was deafening. They had enough gil to stay at the inn for a week, and during that time, he and Miki scoped out clans they could apply to. He left the talking to her; she was more personable, and he was getting worn out dealing with a sea of strangers.

  
  
Imaizumi frowned as they entered the Prancing Chocobo for the fifth night in a row, and took a seat in the far corner, trying to tune out the raucous clans at the bar. Miki grinned knowingly at him, and promised to bring him a tankard of ale to take the edge off his headache once she was done reading the mission postings. As he waited, he arranged his naturally white hair into a messy ponytail offset with the leather headband typical to archers. A thief and his soldier companion sidled over, looking to take a seat at the vieras' table, but Imaizumi glared haughtily through sharp blue eyes until they took the hint and skulked off.

  
  
"What do you think _her_ problem was," the thief grumbled, and Imaizumi sighed. Maybe joining a hume clan would be a mistake. Nu mou or moogles were more accommodating. They at least realized he would hear them talking under their breath about him.

  
  
Viera were complex and multifaceted beings, sometimes reticent, always more than the sum of their parts. In their native tongue, the viera had four names for gender. It was hard to translate these to the common tongue, and harder still for the less spiritual races to sense the differences in their anima. The simplest descriptions were male-born, male-spirit, female-born, and female-spirit. (There was also two-spirit, a rare and celebrated occurrence, although Imaizumi had not met such an individual personally.)

  
  
Male-born viera were uncommon and territorial, typically formed their own settlements in the Wood, and were the most secretive sect of the already enigmatic race. Female-born viera were more likely to reject the Green Word and explore outside of the Wood, become clansman or mercenaries, and if they desired offspring, they could conceive by a hume, aegyl, or other races if they so chose. Male-spirit and female-spirit were less understood by the outside world, but sometimes they too yearned to explore at the cost of their culture.

  
  
When Imaizumi was mistaken for female, he would politely and patiently correct them – he was male-spirit, in contrast to Miki, female-born. Viera could sense that innately, but he tried not to blame the humes or bangaa who could not. It must be hard for them to tell much of anything, despite the signs being plain as day. His ears stood high and proud and were adorned with piercings denoting high status. He lacked the markings to denote a clan or mate, so he was unattached. His modest chest was bound flat beneath his orange jerkin. He was well-bred and fit, his bare legs tall and lean-muscled, his long fingers callused from excessive target practice with his bowstring.

  
  
Any viera could tell a lot about him at a glance.

 

* * *

  
  
When Miki excitedly dragged him to meet the clan that accepted them, Imaizumi was understandably skeptical. They looked more ragtag than professional – among them was a flustered moogle gadgeteer blinking through gigantic goggles, and the shortest bangaa he'd ever met, clad in gaudy red-lacquered dragoon armor – though their leader was a capable-looking hume paladin with rose-tinted glasses. Imaizumi's cool gaze flicked to the lone viera slouching toward the back, and felt a flicker of solidarity. He thought perhaps they would understand each other best, being a pair of male-spirit outcasts.

  
  
When the introductions were over, Miki nudged Imaizumi in Arakita's direction and winked. His ears flicked back in annoyance at her, but he obediently made his way over.

  
  
Arakita had shorn his hair above his shoulders and dyed it black like a hume's. The sniper's beady, unfriendly eyes squinted out over his veil, shadowed by the brim of his cap. A wicked scar puckered the tanned skin along his right elbow, tracing up underneath the sleeve of his green tunic. His tall ears were nicked along the edges from bygone skirmishes, and were devoid of jewelry. He was made of sharp angles and jutting bone – how long had he gone without eating properly? He radiated hostility despite Imaizumi's best effort at congeniality.

  
  
"Fucked up my fencing arm in a Jagd," he snapped as soon as he noticed Imaizumi's eyes on the old scar. Imaizumi flushed, ready to apologize for staring so openly. Arakita didn't give him the chance. "You think you're so fuckin' great, don't you? Waltzin' in here with your fancy earrings and snooty attitude and that stick so far up your ass – I'm the best shot in our clan, got it? You're not gonna fuckin' replace me."

  
  
Imaizumi was speechless. He could feel the blush creeping up his ears. He would have said he had no intentions of competing for a starting position, but the truth was, Imaizumi was very good at archery and he _did_ expect to be a starter. He blinked, at a loss for what to say, and Arakita grabbed him by the arm.

  
  
"Y'know what, we're gonna settle this before you get any ideas! Target practice in the alley, loser buys drinks and shuts the fuck up!"

  
  
Imaizumi shrugged, slung his bow over his shoulder, and followed the older viera outside into the gloom. They stacked crates in the alley and he solemnly agreed to the designated targets.

  
  
"Best two out of three" became "best six out of ten" became "best eleven out of twenty". Soon Arakita was just screeching obscenities into the night air, and it took the disapproving presence of a judge on chocobo-back hovering nearby to convince them to pack up and return to the pub. Their other clanmates had already retired to their rooms for the night. Imaizumi ended up buying Arakita a drink out of pity, and the viera snarled ungratefully at him and threw it in his face.

  
  
When Imaizumi returned to their room at the inn, Miki took one look at his morose liquor-drenched expression and burst into laughter.

  
  
"Bad first date?" she teased as she wiped the drink from his downy fur. Imaizumi wanted to retort but he was just too tired, and settled for a weary sigh.

  
  
"He's so insecure. And immature. And where did a viera learn to curse like that?" he grumbled sullenly. He was better at archery and they both knew it. What, was he supposed to throw the match to win favor? That was dishonest and pointless.

  
  
Miki handed him the washcloth when she was done. "You're blushing again. Look, I'm sure he'll warm up if you give him time to see you're not a threat," she shrugged thoughtfully. "He wasn't particularly friendly to me either. I think he only likes the captain; maybe I'll ask what his deal is… Oh, do you think maybe he got kicked out of his last clan? I'm curious now…"

  
  
Imaizumi busied himself waxing his bowstring and pretended not to hear her speculate.

 

* * *

  
  
When the clan left Cyril the next morning, the three viera found themselves marching at the back of the motley group. Miki gave Imaizumi a wink and sped up her pace to fall in line with the paladin captain. Imaizumi chanced a glance at Arakita and flinched when he saw the viera openly glaring at him. Clearly his mood had not improved overnight.

  
  
"You think you're fuckin' better than me, don't you?" Arakita spat sourly, hands stuffed into his robe pockets.

  
  
Imaizumi sighed and walked on with proper posture to set an example. "I'm a better aim, unless you were drinking last night," he stated honestly.

  
  
Arakita's face darkened to a shade of aubergine and he spluttered wordlessly for a few moments. "You little shit," he seethed finally through his veil. "Keep it up, wonderboy, I'll show you!"

  
  
Imaizumi nodded. "I look forward to it," he stated, faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as Arakita yanked an arrow from his quiver and snapped it in half.

  
  
If the rest of the clan hadn't noticed the brewing rivalry between the two viera, they soon got a front-row show. During a territory skirmish with another clan, Imaizumi and Arakita took out more than half of the targets by themselves, ignoring the captain's commands to shout insults at each other. Miki stifled her giggles when she watched Imaizumi's calm façade deteriorate into the same petty name-calling that Arakita had no filter for.

  
  
The exasperated captain decided to send one of them off on dispatch to cool off, but neither of them would let go of the mission tag, each claiming to be faster. Their bickering got so heated that the captain told them both to go and learn how to work as teammates.

  
  
They were still snapping at each other as they set off into the woods.

 

* * *

  
  
Arakita scowled as he flung himself into the pub booth. The bartender shot the viera a suspicious look, but went back to wiping the counter. Imaizumi's sharp features were pinched into a concerned frown as he sat down opposite his partner. After a moment, he muttered, "Do you want to talk about what happ-"

  
  
"Not fuckin' likely," Arakita hissed.

  
  
Imaizumi nodded and went to grab them both drinks. It was the last of his gil. In their zeal to complete the mission as quickly as possible, Arakita ignored the judge's rules and received a red card. He had been warped to prison on the spot, leaving Imaizumi to complete the skirmish and collect the reward alone. It didn't feel like much of a success when their gil had been spent on bail for a stupid mistake.

  
  
Arakita yanked down his veil, grabbed his tankard and tipped it back, guzzling the ale at an alarming rate. Imaizumi raised an eyebrow. Arakita slammed the mug onto the table so hard he thought it might crack. He squinted at Imaizumi, baring his teeth like he was about to bite. Maybe he was, considering the mad gleam in his eyes.

  
  
"Well? You gonna tell the captain on me, right? Should I fuckin' leave now and spare you the trouble, or did you pay my bail so you could fuckin' humiliate me in front of the clan?"

  
  
Imaizumi once again found himself at a loss for words. He took a sip from his tankard, and cleared his throat.

  
  
"Fuckin' answer me," the belligerent viera screeched, knocking the drink from his hands to spill on the floor.

  
  
Imaizumi stiffened. "I'm going to report what happened. We completed the mission and spent the gil on celebratory drinks. That's the truth."

  
  
"Haa?" Arakita leered, tilting his head. "You're not gonna grab credit? Thought you were some fuckin' goody-two-shoes who always follows the rules."

  
  
"I do follow the rules," Imaizumi agreed. "That's why I didn't get carded."

  
  
Arakita slammed his palms against the table. "Shut the fuck up! Judges make me uncomfortable, okay? I'm used to the Jagd. No rules, kill or be killed. None of this prison shit. You shoulda left me to rot in there, I'm just gonna fuck up again!"

  
  
Imaizumi's ears tipped back apprehensively. Arakita was loud. So very and unapologetically loud, when all Imaizumi sought was quiet.

  
  
It had been a relief for all of two seconds when the judge's whistle rang out and a startled Arakita disappeared from the battlefield. Then a heavy ball of dread sank in his gut, and Imaizumi felt more uneasy than he had been leaving the Wood for the last time. He had rushed to finish the mission as quickly as he could, and ran the whole way to the jailer's. He knew better than to expect gratitude. It was relief enough to have the viera sniper sitting across from him rather than behind bars and alone.

  
  
"You can make the report. Say whatever you want and I won't contradict it," Imaizumi promised. He fidgeted, nothing in his hands to toy with anymore.

  
  
The archer flinched when a hand snaked out and gripped him by the collar. Arakita's face contorted into a sneer as he leaned in too close over the table, alcohol sour on his breath.

  
  
"'The fuck you playin' at, wonderboy? Tryin' to make me owe you a favor? What do you want from me? Haa?!"

  
  
Imaizumi went very still, except for the blush creeping along his cheeks and up his ears. Even a hume could read the signs at this point. Arakita might have been the most insensitive viera in Ivalice, and the ale wasn't helping, but it seemed to finally dawn on him as Imaizumi shyly averted his eyes and let his ears gradually angle back in submission.

  
  
"Oh," Arakita said stupidly. "Well, don't think I'm gonna back off because of _that_ bullshit, okay? I have a fuckin' place in this clan and I'm not gonna let a newbie kick me out. Got that?"

  
  
Imaizumi nodded silently. He wouldn't back down either. Viera pride was not so easily broken.

  
  
Then Arakita sighed noisily, yanked him forward by the collar, and planted a sloppy kiss on his mouth.

  
  
Imaizumi made an undignified squeak. His face burned with embarrassment as he leaned into it. His hands strayed to stroke Arakita's downy ears, fingering the old scars and notches that marked the sensitive rims. Arakita broke off the kiss and shoved his hands aside, flashing a scowl.

  
  
"Oi, knock that shit off, we're in public! Do you think I'm takin' you back to my fuckin' room, kid?!" the sniper growled.

  
  
Imaizumi could no longer look him in the eyes, and busied himself trying to smooth down his flyaway hair and will the heated blush to fade. He felt like everyone in the room was staring at them. His overly sensitive hearing did pick up on a few surprised murmurs, which only increased his humiliation.

  
  
"Good to know, good to know," Arakita leaned on his elbows and cackled.

  
  
Imaizumi chanced a quick glance, ears stiffening upright with nervous energy.

  
  
Arakita's lopsided grin widened. "Good to know if you ever get too full of yourself, I can knock you on your prude ass," he sneered.

  
  
"'Least there's one fuckin' thing I can do better than you… Ima-chan."


End file.
